It’s the oldest hobbyist’s medium, but computer routing can make it new.

Three years ago, Kenneth Barry was just an IT guy at a cabinet shop. But when his boss asked him to help the company go paperless, he went further, assembling a machine to automate what most woodworkers were doing by hand. His first CNC router was a crude hack, its design cribbed from somebody’s website, its frame cobbled together from a pile of plastic bathroom partitions. But it allowed the twentysomething dad to make his own custom furniture with just a few keystrokes. Soon he hit on a way to combine his 3-D modeling skills with one of his hobbies, the online strategy game Spring. His CNC, he realized, could take one of the game’s “heightmaps,” which hold the geospatial data for each level, and render it as a relief map in wood. His first attempt was uneven and choppy, so for his second he went all out and built a new router, knocking down a wall in his garage to accommodate the 10- by 8-foot beast. The mission was a success, landing him a one-of-a-kind coffee table with an eerie lunar surface.—Cameron Bird

Kenneth Barry

Sunnyvale, California

The Project

Turn Gamescapes Into Furniture

4 Sit back and watch the router carve.
Finally, I put on some headphones and press Start. The router descends, traveling quickly across the surface to chisel the lunar craters. A rack-and-pinion drive system moves the router 1,184 inches a minute, and the bit spins at up to 22,000 rpm. When the machine has read every line of code and completed its path to every position, the tabletop terrain is complete. Eventually, I'm going to paint the map based on the colors used in Spring. I also plan to use a 3-D printer to make toys based on characters and vehicles in the game.

3 Load the instructions and fasten the wood.
PhotoVCarve generates the tool path in G-code, the near-universal programming language for CNC routers. Every detailed instruction for how the tool should move—taking into consideration not just the contours of the map but also the bit size—gets baked into 457,440 lines of code, which I transfer via thumbdrive to the CNC's own embedded computer. After fastening down the wood, I move the overhanging router (I use a Hitachi M12VC variable-speed router that costs about $120) to the X0 Y0 Z0 point, calibrating its position by pressing Home in the CNC software.

2 Convert it into code.
With the levels tweaked, I then convert the image to a tool path—a set of instructions for the CNC router. There are several apps for doing this. I use Vectric's PhotoVCarve, which costs $149. (With some of the pricier programs, like Aspire, you can airbrush and massage the terrain onscreen, but PhotoVCarve does the job just fine.) In the software, I select the type of raw material I'll be working with (medium-density fiberboard), the surface area (around 2 by 3 feet), thickness (2.25 inches), and bit size (¼ inch). I then pinpoint a starting point on the map—also known as X0 Y0 Z0—and hit Render. PhotoVCarve also gives me the estimated time for routing: in this case, three hours and 44 minutes.

1 Optimize the source data.
On the heightmaps, each altitude is represented by a different color. Using a free open source tool called SpringMapEdit, I export the heightmap as an 8-bit grayscale image, either a JPG or a bitmap. There are 256 shades of gray and therefore 256 possible elevations—the darker the shade, the deeper the CNC drills. In Photoshop, I adjust the levels to boost the contrast, so the darkest grays are pitch-black and the lightest ones are pure white. That makes the machine more likely to pick up all the fine gradations in height.

With an automated mill, the home garage is transformed into a precision parts factory.

Welding torches and forging pits add to the drama, but hobbyists can work in metal without courting third-degree burns. In 2009, San Diego machinist Dan Wilcox made an aluminum chain ring on his home CNC mill and posted a photo to the popular mountain biking forum MTBR.com. “I anodized it pink,” he says, “and at that time there wasn’t really anything like that out there.” The flashy ring was a hit, and as positive feedback looped in, so did requests to buy one. He put up a website at homebrewedcomponents.com and before long was handling enough orders for custom chain rings, cogs, and accessories—in aluminum, titanium, and myriad colors—to turn this into a full-time retail business. Now, when a manufacturer like Shimano or SRAM releases a new line of parts, Wilcox can immediately get to work on compatible options. Instead of kicking a mass-market look, cyclists can bolt on his custom parts to add a bit of one-off flair to their trail rides or weekday bike commutes. To be able to fill all those orders, Wilcox has gotten his technique down to a science.—Mathew Honan

Dan Wilcox

San Diego, California

The Project

Make Your Own Bike Components

4 Sit back and watch the router carve.
Finally, I put on some headphones and press Start. The router descends, traveling quickly across the surface to chisel the lunar craters. A rack-and-pinion drive system moves the router 1,184 inches a minute, and the bit spins at up to 22,000 rpm. When the machine has read every line of code and completed its path to every position, the tabletop terrain is complete. Eventually, I'm going to paint the map based on the colors used in Spring. I also plan to use a 3-D printer to make toys based on characters and vehicles in the game.

3 Load the instructions and fasten the wood.
PhotoVCarve generates the tool path in G-code, the near-universal programming language for CNC routers. Every detailed instruction for how the tool should move—taking into consideration not just the contours of the map but also the bit size—gets baked into 457,440 lines of code, which I transfer via thumbdrive to the CNC's own embedded computer. After fastening down the wood, I move the overhanging router (I use a Hitachi M12VC variable-speed router that costs about $120) to the X0 Y0 Z0 point, calibrating its position by pressing Home in the CNC software.

2 Convert it into code.
With the levels tweaked, I then convert the image to a tool path—a set of instructions for the CNC router. There are several apps for doing this. I use Vectric's PhotoVCarve, which costs $149. (With some of the pricier programs, like Aspire, you can airbrush and massage the terrain onscreen, but PhotoVCarve does the job just fine.) In the software, I select the type of raw material I'll be working with (medium-density fiberboard), the surface area (around 2 by 3 feet), thickness (2.25 inches), and bit size (¼ inch). I then pinpoint a starting point on the map—also known as X0 Y0 Z0—and hit Render. PhotoVCarve also gives me the estimated time for routing: in this case, three hours and 44 minutes.

1 Optimize the source data.
On the heightmaps, each altitude is represented by a different color. Using a free open source tool called SpringMapEdit, I export the heightmap as an 8-bit grayscale image, either a JPG or a bitmap. There are 256 shades of gray and therefore 256 possible elevations—the darker the shade, the deeper the CNC drills. In Photoshop, I adjust the levels to boost the contrast, so the darkest grays are pitch-black and the lightest ones are pure white. That makes the machine more likely to pick up all the fine gradations in height.

Render just about any object onscreen and a 3-D printer can produce it in a matter of minutes.

Until a few years ago, plastic wasn’t a usable material for hobbyists. But today, thanks to cheap 3-D printers and rapid-prototyping services, makers like Stony Smith—who designs pieces for model railroad sets in Z-scale, one of the tiniest gauges out there—can manufacture runs of plastic pieces with just a few clicks of the mouse. A computer scientist by training, Smith works as a programmer, supporting billing software for telecoms. A couple of years ago, when his wife encouraged (OK, ordered) him to find a hobby, he took up model railroading, and soon he got curious about whether he could use 3-D modeling software to make the scenery accessories: trucks on the city streets, say, or planes on the local airstrip. After creating a few test models with CAD and uploading the files to the Shapeways prototyping service, he found he could make not just his miniatures but also some extra money through the company’s online store—in less than two years, he’s sold more than 1,250 pieces. Give him a few days and he can make a tiny version of just about anything. —Bill Wasik

Stony Smith

Grapevine, Texas

The Project

Create Real Toys From Digital Files

4 Sit back and watch the router carve.
Finally, I put on some headphones and press Start. The router descends, traveling quickly across the surface to chisel the lunar craters. A rack-and-pinion drive system moves the router 1,184 inches a minute, and the bit spins at up to 22,000 rpm. When the machine has read every line of code and completed its path to every position, the tabletop terrain is complete. Eventually, I'm going to paint the map based on the colors used in Spring. I also plan to use a 3-D printer to make toys based on characters and vehicles in the game.

3 Load the instructions and fasten the wood.
PhotoVCarve generates the tool path in G-code, the near-universal programming language for CNC routers. Every detailed instruction for how the tool should move—taking into consideration not just the contours of the map but also the bit size—gets baked into 457,440 lines of code, which I transfer via thumbdrive to the CNC's own embedded computer. After fastening down the wood, I move the overhanging router (I use a Hitachi M12VC variable-speed router that costs about $120) to the X0 Y0 Z0 point, calibrating its position by pressing Home in the CNC software.

2 Convert it into code.
With the levels tweaked, I then convert the image to a tool path—a set of instructions for the CNC router. There are several apps for doing this. I use Vectric's PhotoVCarve, which costs $149. (With some of the pricier programs, like Aspire, you can airbrush and massage the terrain onscreen, but PhotoVCarve does the job just fine.) In the software, I select the type of raw material I'll be working with (medium-density fiberboard), the surface area (around 2 by 3 feet), thickness (2.25 inches), and bit size (¼ inch). I then pinpoint a starting point on the map—also known as X0 Y0 Z0—and hit Render. PhotoVCarve also gives me the estimated time for routing: in this case, three hours and 44 minutes.

1 Optimize the source data.
On the heightmaps, each altitude is represented by a different color. Using a free open source tool called SpringMapEdit, I export the heightmap as an 8-bit grayscale image, either a JPG or a bitmap. There are 256 shades of gray and therefore 256 possible elevations—the darker the shade, the deeper the CNC drills. In Photoshop, I adjust the levels to boost the contrast, so the darkest grays are pitch-black and the lightest ones are pure white. That makes the machine more likely to pick up all the fine gradations in height.

Thanks to the open source Arduino microprocessor, hobbyists don’t need to mess with soldering irons or circuit boards to computerize their gadgets—to hack their alarm clocks, say, or put their thermostats online. But few have pushed the Arduino as far as Marc DeVidts, who used one to orchestrate a particularly dramatic wardrobe change. For last fall’s Dragon*Con, the annual sci-fi megashow in Atlanta, he wanted a costume unlike any other. Applying his scientific mind to the task, the software engineer hit on a rule of thumb for convention wear: Blinky lights good. “If you have a bunch of LEDs or anything that blinks, people love it,” he says. “So I decided that I would just make a whole suit!” What he envisioned was a white getup with embedded flashing lights, like a futurist Saturday Night Fever where John Travolta wears the dance floor. This was easier said than done—it took two months of engineering, programming, and sewing—but by opening night, DeVidts had created what has to be the coolest, flashiest suit in the history of Dragon*Con.—Erin Biba

Marc DeVidts

Miami, Florida

The Project

Light Up Your Wardrobe

4 Sit back and watch the router carve.
Finally, I put on some headphones and press Start. The router descends, traveling quickly across the surface to chisel the lunar craters. A rack-and-pinion drive system moves the router 1,184 inches a minute, and the bit spins at up to 22,000 rpm. When the machine has read every line of code and completed its path to every position, the tabletop terrain is complete. Eventually, I'm going to paint the map based on the colors used in Spring. I also plan to use a 3-D printer to make toys based on characters and vehicles in the game.

3 Load the instructions and fasten the wood.
PhotoVCarve generates the tool path in G-code, the near-universal programming language for CNC routers. Every detailed instruction for how the tool should move—taking into consideration not just the contours of the map but also the bit size—gets baked into 457,440 lines of code, which I transfer via thumbdrive to the CNC's own embedded computer. After fastening down the wood, I move the overhanging router (I use a Hitachi M12VC variable-speed router that costs about $120) to the X0 Y0 Z0 point, calibrating its position by pressing Home in the CNC software.

2 Convert it into code.
With the levels tweaked, I then convert the image to a tool path—a set of instructions for the CNC router. There are several apps for doing this. I use Vectric's PhotoVCarve, which costs $149. (With some of the pricier programs, like Aspire, you can airbrush and massage the terrain onscreen, but PhotoVCarve does the job just fine.) In the software, I select the type of raw material I'll be working with (medium-density fiberboard), the surface area (around 2 by 3 feet), thickness (2.25 inches), and bit size (¼ inch). I then pinpoint a starting point on the map—also known as X0 Y0 Z0—and hit Render. PhotoVCarve also gives me the estimated time for routing: in this case, three hours and 44 minutes.

1 Optimize the source data.
On the heightmaps, each altitude is represented by a different color. Using a free open source tool called SpringMapEdit, I export the heightmap as an 8-bit grayscale image, either a JPG or a bitmap. There are 256 shades of gray and therefore 256 possible elevations—the darker the shade, the deeper the CNC drills. In Photoshop, I adjust the levels to boost the contrast, so the darkest grays are pitch-black and the lightest ones are pure white. That makes the machine more likely to pick up all the fine gradations in height.